


The New ABBA

by Fandomfishie (SvenskaFishes)



Series: The Eurovision Part of Town [6]
Category: Eurovision Song Contest RPF
Genre: Eurovision Song Contest 2016, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-17
Updated: 2016-08-07
Packaged: 2018-06-09 01:29:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6883528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SvenskaFishes/pseuds/Fandomfishie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“We should be the new ABBA,” she suggests in a voice that sounds so raw and painful that he has to restrain a wince. Then it sets in, exactly what she’s saying.</p>
<p>[Prologue to Silver Fragments]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> You might want to [watch this video](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Mfk2loDVNyk) to know what's going on here.
> 
> I was only expecting to mention Poli once and then never again. Then this happened. And it keeps happening. Things get happier from here on out, I promise.
> 
> **Standard disclaimer for all chapters:** This is not meant to be sent to anyone involved in Eurovision in any official capacity - not an artist especially. Mentioning it on a fansite/group or something should be okay as long as you talk to me first.
> 
> Also, don’t expect tons of accuracy to real life here, I don't have much life experience so this is all imagination. And quite a few Eurovision artist relationships and facts in this are made up, not everything correlates to real things. While the characters are based on real people, they are not meant to be those people, only fictional characters in a fan-made universe.

Everyone in town knows that Poli Genova lives in the shadows. You can’t find her no matter how hard you look. She’s a ghost, invisible and intangible and existing more as rumor than as a person. Which came first - the blood pumping like ice in her veins, or the legend that just might have whispered her into being?

No one can dream of so much as catching a glimpse of Poli Genova. No one except Hovi Star who has lunch with her on fridays.

On the good days she brings takeout and they split everything easily between them. They share utensils and take off their shoes and they laugh more than they breathe.

On the bad days she comes in the back entrance with lips as thin and chalk-white as eggshells, shadows deep under her eyes, and he doesn’t say a word as he types out a text to his squad to shut down the shop for the day. He takes her by the elbow and ushers her into the car with the tinted windows and in ten minutes they’re at his place and he’s wrapping her shoulders in the softest blanket he can find.

Sometimes she’ll be a bit okay. Enough so that he can bring out the nail polish he has in her favorite colors and she’ll smile at him weakly and they’ll make a night of it. He’ll end up with nail polish on his floor, maybe even on his cheek if it’ll make her smile, but that’s nothing new.

This night’s a bad one. Poli’s hands are shaking.

He sits next to her in the quiet and he can’t stand it. “Come here, honey,” he soothes, and she slowly shuffles sideways. She leans over and over until her shoulder hits the couch with a soft _swshhh_ and her head lands in his lap.

He runs his fingers through her hair, along her scalp, soothing as best he can. She shivers a little at the touch, but then every tense nerve in her body seems to give out at once.

(He’ll never tell anyone what Poli looks like when she cries.)

It could be hours later when she finally speaks. It’s hard to tell. The breath rattles in her chest when she breathes in and his hands freeze for just a moment.

“We should be the new ABBA,” she suggests in a voice that sounds so raw and painful that he has to restrain a wince. Then it sets in, exactly what she’s saying, and,

And he can’t exactly say he’s completely aboveboard in the first place. The fireworks are just one of several things he deals with under the table. And she’s just so… it’s hard to say no.

(More things Hovi Star won’t tell anyone: the way his heart thumps hard in his chest, his throat tightens, his nerves race when he first thinks about it. Being the new ABBA. _Ruling the city together just under the bubbling, life-filled surface._ It’s frightening, but he will always maintain that he was extremely composed and not choking at all when he said, “Yes.”)

That is literally the last word that passes between them all night. Then she’s rolling herself off of his couch, her long hair slipping through his fingers one last time, and he wakes the next morning with no sign she was ever there except an ache between his shoulderblades from sleeping sitting up and the faint notion niggling in the back of his mind that his whole world has just changed irrevocably.

(Later on he’ll say that he jumped in headfirst and with eyes wide open, but the truth is that it doesn’t settle in until two days later when Poli sneaks in the back entrance arm-in-arm with a dark haired woman. “I found our Frida,” is all she says, and she’s grinning like they both hung the moon and stars and he’s so happy for her. Maybe this is actually a thing they could do.)


	2. The Fourth ABBA Member

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“I know a guy,” Sanja says, and the corners of her mouth are tugging upwards, “he’s even blond. Really cute too."_

Sanja is bouncing, blistering joy, a warm day in winter, a flirty wink and a warm hand on a shoulder or wrist. She digs firmly into the fractures of Hovi and Poli, the parts that have cracked over years of self-doubt and pain, and soothes them.

(Hovi lives and breathes self-love, preaches it like his own personal gospel, but even he feels weary and doubtful sometimes. He may act like a god among men but he’s made of human-paper flesh, veins that bleed, knees that tire of bearing weight sometimes. And he’s been holding up Poli when her own knees have given out. He’s tired.

But Sanja is a fresh breeze that effortlessly lifts the three of them up to dizzying heights. And Hovi never wants to come down.)

Sanja is a TV star. Her programme airs on daytime TV - it’s one of those slice-of-life shows and she plays the dumb brunette.

Off-camera, Sanja is brilliant. She speaks four languages and comports herself with dignity in all of them. She’s clever, her wit stronger than the hardest of wills, and she cares so much it hurts to watch sometimes. Hovi and Poli are wrapped up in their own lives so deeply most of the time that it pains them to see Sanja burning brighter than the sun and enveloping the whole world in her fire.

She wants to take over the world for the best of reasons.

_Think of all the people we could help-_ she argues, _think of all the people The System is ignoring-_ and yeah, Hovi side-eyes Poli at this, because he’s the only one who’s heard her heartsong since it changed, and there’s something about it that niggles in the back of his mind - and Poli is entranced.

Then Poli purses her lips and gives a little shake of her head. "But,” she says, flipping her blonde hair over her shoulder, “we still need a Björn. We need a blond guy.”

“You’re kidding, right?” Hovi asks, eyebrows raised, hands flat against each other like a prayer as he rests them in his lap. “We need, if anything, we need a bookkeeper. We need the best, and whether they’ve got red hair or blue…”

“I know a guy,” Sanja says, and the corners of her mouth are tugging upwards, “he’s even blond. Really cute too.”

Hovi knows almost everyone in town, by the local gossip if nothing else, and he directs a skeptical half-lidded gaze at Sanja. “Who?”

“The estonian kid at the casino.” Her grin reaches her eyes now.

Poli looks up, eyes flashing wide in acknowledgement. “Jüri?” She doesn’t sound doubtful, only excited, and Hovi instinctually wants to pull the brakes before it goes too far.

He’s shaking his head before he even knows he’s doing it. “You really think he’d- he’s got a circle of friends, the, the what are they called…”

“Baltic Boys?” Poli suggests.

“Yeah. The Baltic Boys. You can’t get one without the others… can you? And would you _honestly_ tell me they’d go along with this?”

“Are you saying you don’t think Jüri’s cute enough to join us?” Sanja still has the sparkle in her eye.

“No, I-”

“He’s _not_ cute?”

“I- yeah-”

“So you _do_ think he’s cute?” (She’s relentless, god, the amusement bubbles up in his chest and he can barely breathe for it).

He flaps his hands, limp-wristed, waving away the Devious Accusations. “He’s cute, yeah, but we need _more_ than cute, we need someone who can run all the numbers and logistics for this-”

_“Annnnd_ with a nice butt,” Poli interjects wisely, “that guy’s got one.”

He’s really laughing now. It’s nonsensical and exciting and they’re flying by the seat of their pants and maybe, just maybe it’ll turn out alright.

(It does. Sanja has Connections and by this time next week, the four of them are drinking together in Hovi’s crystal-studded living room, and Poli leans back into Hovi’s shoulder while Sanja is curled up at her knee, laughing into her glass, and Jüri is sitting across from them with a laptop balanced in one hand. And Sanja’s reaching out to comfortingly squeeze Jüri’s fingers until his sharp features soften and he relaxes, and he’s _absolutely brilliant,_ and Hovi Star’s never had this many people he’s been so thankful for in his life.)


	3. The TV Star

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"You should get out. Go be a person. When’s the last time you talked with someone who wasn’t us - I mean really talked?”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by tumblr users Slightlyintimidating and ESC-is-for-eurovision.

The first meeting as the full New ABBA goes well. At first. Jüri’s been running numbers and has great suggestions. Sanja tosses out names of people she knows (she knows a lot). Hovi concurs with the two of them and replies with his own blend of financial wisdom and local gossip.

(What is he doing here, he wonders. He doesn’t have anything that the others don’t already have in spades. Money? Beauty? Connections? Fabulousness probably. But then he looks at Poli with her legs crossed and jaw tense, and he shuffles a little closer to her. Because if he has nothing else, he has this.)

“What’s wrong?” He asks her quietly. She looks up, eyes wide and ocean-deep. The other two stop their steady stream of chattering and turn to watch.

“They found my safehouse,” she admits. Looking closer, he carefully notes the bags under her eyes, the slight tilt to the way she’s sitting. She looks exhausted, but as if she’s used to hiding it. You need to know what to look for to find the signs.

“Oh Poli…” he sighs and leans over to bump shoulders. It’s happened before, and it’s not surprising. It just sucks.

“Well, where are you sleeping?” Sanja asks. She’s brilliant, but Hovi wants to reach over and kick her at that, especially with the way Poli shrugs in response but stays quiet.

Hovi would offer his couch, and he probably will tonight, but it can’t be a permanent arrangement. She’s adamant about not risking tearing down his entire life with her presence. It’s all fine. They’ll figure it out.

Jüri’s deep in thought. He taps his fingers on the arm of his chair and then leans forward. “What do you do during the day? Like, uh, when you’re not…”

“…terrorizing the town?” Poli says with a little huff. There’s a smile in her eyes at least. “Sleep, I guess. I don’t know. Order out. Not much you can do, being me.”

Hovi watches as Sanja glances over at Jüri. There’s a dawning light in her face and Hovi is intrigued and suddenly the tiniest bit hopeful. Jüri goes on: “And no one knows what you look like? Who you are?”

She shrugs and shakes her head.

Sanja’s taken the thread of the conversation this time. “Instead of camping out somewhere in a dark dingy… I don’t know, wherever, you should get out. Go be a person. When’s the last time you talked with someone who wasn’t us - I mean really talked?”

“I don’t know. Why?” Poli is leaning forward now. For the first time, they truly feel like co-conspirators, all huddled together with their thoughts racing. All focused for the first time on a single goal. Hovi can feel the way the atmosphere in the room shifts.

“Listen, everybody needs to have a life and… social interaction. Do you have any marketable skills? Wait, without a CV you might as well not bother. Unless…” Sanja taps a manicured nail on her chin. “I bet my agents could swing something.”

“Agents?” Poli murmurs. “Wait, you don’t mean those guys, uh, Minus One? Over at that talent agency on the other side of-”

“Yeah, exactly! You know them?”

Poli rolls her eyes. “Does a criminal know a bunch of ex-cons gone straight? Hmm, I wonder.” Her smile, bright as the sun, gives her away.

Hovi’s excited. “You know what, that could actually work! I’ve seen her-” he turns to her, “-remember? The delivery truck thing?”

“Oh yeah!” Her eyes dance as she stares off into the distance, recalling.

He turns to Sanja and Jüri with a crooked grin. “She’s a great actress, I can definitely vouch. You think we could make it work?”

“Definitely,” Sanja assures them. And they do.

Less than a week later, Poli is signed on to work with the agency. Minus One. She’s under a pseudonym but it’s really obvious if you know what you’re looking at: POLI makes her debut on a primetime TV special and becomes an instant sensation. Hovi Star is suddenly best friends with several TV stars, and when he hangs out with them, he makes sure the cameras get the best side of his face. The set is almost complete, if only Jüri wasn’t hanging out with the Baltic Boys all the time… but it’s okay. Hovi’s hamming up to the cameras enough for several people.

(It’s good for his business and his ego. Both his girls are gorgeous and together all three of them are pretty much the most beautiful people in town. He wants people to know this. He wants to scream it to the sky. He and his best friends are good-looking and amazing and clever and his heart is full to burst.

The first time he can finally walk out in the sunlight arm-in-arm with Poli, he thinks of her alone in the dark for so long and he almost cries because he’s so, so happy now.)


	4. The Defenses

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had some trouble getting this where I wanted to go, so if it's a bit nonsense that's why. :)  
> I'm getting back in the swing of things, though, so expect more EPOT soon!

Jüri is all hard edges, the line of his jaw and the bones in his elbows and even his smile. He’s naturally intimidating even before you hear his canyon-deep voice coming from the face of someone who can’t even be twenty yet. He startles people, makes them shake a little bit down in the marrow of their bones. Hovi would find it impressive, except…

Jüri’s soul shines. He is unbearably kind, though a little awkward. Wherever he goes, joy and laughter follow his long-legged gait. His soul is so soft and he bares it to the world and it glows so bright Hovi has to look away or get blinded.

Hovi was soft once, too.

But the world can be cruel to those who are different, and Hovi learned quickly that the edges of his glitter had to be sharp enough to cut. His nails had to be ready to scratch. To protect himself from the world, he wrapped himself up in the sharpest and shiniest things he could, bared his teeth, and dared anyone to come close.

Hovi’s protection is self-forged. It’s his soul made diamond-hard and crystalline, shining in his suits and his makeup and his hair. He worked hard for it. Jüri has it all so naturally and he’s just throwing it away.

The thing that really makes Hovi itch is how utterly easy it would be to tear Jüri’s heart out piece by piece. That kind of vulnerability is frustrating to the point of enraging, especially when he’s going to have to trust Jüri with his life once the New ABBA make their move. Jüri is just so soft, a wind could blow him over. And he doesn’t seem to care. The only thing Jüri asks for, lays down like a godly commandment, is, _don’t touch the Baltic Boys._

Of course, that only makes Hovi want to touch them more. He suddenly has an overwhelming urge to walk straight over to the casino and tap them on their shoulders very deliberately, to have a casual and unassuming little chat with them. To glance over at Jüri across the casino with a challenging stare from under half-lidded eyes. Hovi is a bit petty on the best of days, and a pile of petty on the worst.

Jüri must read something on Hovi’s face because he buttons up a bit after the Baltic Boys comment. And half an hour later, after Hovi kisses Poli on her cheek and Sanja floats out the door like the goddess she is, Jüri lingers by the doorway and puffs out his chest, gets himself as tall as he’ll go.

“I’m serious,” he says, voice ocean-deep and even, “leave the Baltic Boys to me. I’ll take care of the casino. Don’t touch them.”

Hovi raises an eyebrow, shrugs. “Wasn’t even thinking about it.”

“You were, though,” Jüri says, and there’s a wry twist to his lips that is almost a smile, “but I’m not dragging them into this.”

_You can’t tell me what to do,_ Hovi thinks.

“Okay,” Hovi says.

Jüri rolls his eyes, and instead of leaving he ambles over to the empty coffee and tea mugs sitting on the table, grabs them and takes them to the kitchen. He calls over his shoulder, “I don’t believe you.”

“Believe whatever you want,” Hovi argues, a little off-balance by the guest that just won’t leave. 

When the sound of rushing water stops and Jüri comes back to the living room, he’s got a sad smile on his face. He sprawls down on the couch, knees and elbows going everywhere, and he points to the chair across from him, indicating Hovi should sit down. Hovi bristles at being ordered around in his own house and folds his arms, staying standing out of spite.

The Baltic Boy acknowledges this with a tiny nod, then takes a breath. “I’m prepared for whatever it takes to keep my brothers out of this. What can I do to get safety for them? Because they can’t be touched by all of this. _I won’t let them.”_

Realization comes embarassingly slowly. To be fair, Hovi’s here in the Eurovision Part of Town alone, as most people are, and the concept of family sometimes seems a little distant. Hovi should have figured it out before, though. Sanja’s an idealist, Poli is a dreamer, and Hovi just wants what’s best for his girls. Why did Jüri agree to be a part of the New ABBA?

For family. To protect his weaknesses, though he probably doesn’t view it that way.

Jüri’s gaze is as strong and unyielding as steel. His jaw is tense, all angles and determination, and Hovi breathes. There it is. No sign of the softness in Jüri’s soul now, just this. His gaze is as hard as the crystals in Hovi’s suits and it’s _perfect._

Hovi’s concerns start to slip away and he quirks a smile. “They’ll get safety. Promise.” Jüri is shaking his head, but Hovi adds, “if anyone hurt Poli I’d be… I couldn’t handle it.” A weakness for a weakness.

Hovi chose to keep the world away, to protect himself. Jüri doesn’t shield his own heart, he chooses to protect those close to him instead. It’s a noble cause, even if Hovi can’t quite understand it himself. The New ABBA can use it, though, and use Jüri, especially when he’s turned himself into that unyielding steel.

All the tension leaves Jüri’s body at once. “Thank you,” he murmurs.

“No problem. Now get out of my house.”

The kid has the gall to wave cheerfully as he leaves, as though they’d just been casually chatting about the weather. Hovi closes the door shut with a sigh and leans against it, head tilted back, eyes closed.

It’s almost time for the New ABBA to make their move.


End file.
